


Like a River, Like a Sea

by die_traumerei



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angels can sense love, Comfort, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, Other, Post-Canon, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), allosexual relationship, and now crowley can too!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23515237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/die_traumerei/pseuds/die_traumerei
Summary: Angels can sense love. And Aziraphale and Crowley see no reason why Crowley can't too. And, if nothing else, practicing will be so much fun.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 55
Kudos: 205





	Like a River, Like a Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Hello loves, I hope you are all well. 
> 
> I read on some meta somewhere that fluff is insulation against the world. I wrote this as a protective, happy, gentle thing for myself, and I hope it makes you happy too.

“It all comes down to if Augustine is right or not,” Aziraphale said, looking up from a stack of books. “As per usual, I suppose.”

“Hm?” Crowley had been building a house of cards and looked up when Aziraphale spoke.

“If he was right about, well – angel-ing and demon-ing being job descriptions, rather than inherent differences,” Aziraphale explained. “If you and I are made from the same base stuff – still, I mean, of course you were an angel once – or if we're too different.”

“Well, we swapped bodies and didn't blow anything up,” Crowley pointed out, adding another storey to his little house. “So that's a point for ol' 'let me sin and have all the fun and then feel really bad about it'.

“I can't even disapprove,” Aziraphale admitted. “What an unbearable old thing he was.” He frowned and shuffled through a notebook. “I don't think it'll hurt to try, anyway. I mean, I don't think it'll do you any harm.”

Crowley flicked his house of cards and collapsed it, and immediately wished he hadn't. That kind of disgusting dramatic symbolism was their old sides _all over_. “Well, you loving me hasn't hurt me so far, angel. You'll just be a little...pointier about it, for a bit.”

Aziraphale softened, soppy old thing that he was. “Quite right, dearest. Well, shall we begin?”

Crowley licked his lips. “Angel, if this doesn't work...”

“I'll find a dozen ways to let you know you're loved,” Aziraphale said. “I'll do that anyway, dear boy.”

Crowley smiled at him briefly. “I know. I mean. If it doesn't work – it's not your fault, eh? Nothing you're lacking. Promise me you'll remember that, I only mean to tell you every day.”

Aziraphale chuckled, going a little pink. “I promise, you daft old thing. Now. Er. I suppose it will help to start by being very close?”

“To bed!” Crowley said gleefully, because he was always a fan of taking Aziraphale to bed, whatever time of day. Occasionally they even slept there, but mostly not.

Aziraphale sighed, mostly just for show. “To bed,” he agreed, and let Crowley lead him up to the flat that had mysteriously quadrupled in square footage when a certain demon had begun to spend quite a lot of time at the bookshop. What had been a poky little bedroom with the old Victorian fireplace...actually was still a poky little bedroom, but was now used exclusively for storage, and instead they slept (or didn't sleep) in a great, sunny room with wood flooring that was soft and worn and warm on Crowley's feet and a great bed that was also soft and old and warm. Crowley had even, thoughtfully, added a Victorian fireplace, all pretty tiles and never a true fire laid in it. Sometimes on cold nights he would miracle an illusion that gave off homely pops and crackles, and warmed Aziraphale's chair deliciously, but a silent agreement meant that a real flame never crossed the threshold of the shop.

Crowley took a flying leap onto the bed and rolled over, wriggling to his side and holding out one arm. Aziraphale didn't exactly need persuading, though, settling down himself and pulling Crowley close.

“Hello, dearest,” he said with a fond smile and a little kiss.

“ _Aaaaangel_ ,” Crowley sang happily, wriggling until he was happily situated, his head on Aziraphale's chest. His angel was always quite good about the whole heartbeat and breathing thing, and as a result, cuddling with Aziraphale was a wonderfully rhythmic experience.

Aziraphale stroked Crowley's hair. He had cut it quite short just the week before and it was soft and velvety to the touch, the red gleaming in the afternoon light. “Well?” he asked softly. “Feel anything?” He was loving Crowley as hard as he could, which was very.

“Warm. Happy. I like your heartbeat.” Crowley hugged him. “But not anything different. What's it feel like for you?”

Aziraphale closed his eyes and breathed in love. It suffused the bookshop, of course, like a warm background glow. The ambient lighting on a stage, something even and steady to catch everything. And then, a spotlight, and it was Crowley, and it rolled over him like waves in a warm sea. It was tender and playful and Crowley  _loved him_ . Crowley even loved the things Aziraphale hated about himself.

He blinked hard and came back to himself. Of course he could still feel soft eddies of love, but it was an ankle-deep tidal pool now, there but not overwhelming. 

Aziraphale tried to describe these things to Crowley, who nodded politely but seemed confused.

“I'm sorry,” Aziraphale said. “Perhaps it's different for everyone.” He smiled wryly. “No one particularly talked about it, you know.”

Crowley snorted. “'Cause I bet you're the only angel in the whole world who's loved,” he said. “Really loved, I mean.” He kissed Aziraphale, feeling more than a bit protective. “Let me try again.”

A few minutes later he was shaking his head. “Okay, no, the spotlights and waves analogies aren't working. Sorry.”

“Don't be sorry,” Aziraphale said. “Crowley, we can practice this as much as you want. Maybe you have to kind of...train up to it?” He petted Crowley's short-cropped hair again, running his hand against the grain of his hair this time to feel the soft velvet nap of it and make Crowley purr a little. “We'll do this every day. Lie quiet, now, and don't think too much, and let me love you.”

“Ask a hard one, why don't you,” Crowley said, and lay down again, eyes closing, clearly straining for...something.

There was nothing again the next day. Neither of them could really begrudge the time, though; there was little nicer than setting aside an hour or so to be utterly unbearable together. Truly, one of the perks of retirement, they agreed.

“It's good for me,” Aziraphale said quietly, on the third day.

Crowley frowned and pushed himself up, arms framing Aziraphale's face. “Did you need this before? Sweetheart, you know I would have done this every day, just for you.”

“I know,” Aziraphale soothed him. “I don't think it's...need, exactly. I know you love me, and you're so very good about showing me, in so many ways.” He covered one of Crowley's hands with one of his, squeezing lightly. “It's not the love, exactly. I think it's...the quiet. The chance to rest, and let my mind calm. The only thing I have to do is love you. I don't have to worry about anything, or fix anything, or mind the shop or mind my miracles or...anything.” He sighed deeply. “It's so peaceful, Crowley.”

“Then we'll never stop this,” Crowley said softly. “Every day. A little time, just for you to rest, and not worry, and be loved.” He kissed over one of Aziraphale's eyes, smiling down at him. He still had his reading glasses on, perched rather cutely on his nose. “I'll practice feeling love, and you'll practice not being afraid. Deal?”

“I'm not afraid!” Aziraphale protested, then fell quiet. “No,” he said softly, after some time. “That's not true.”

“I know,” Crowley said, kissing over his other eye. “Those bastards. You're safe, angel. Forever. Long as I'm around.”

“My Crowley,” Aziraphale said. “Lie down, and see if you can feel anything.

The next day, they had a little time resting together for Aziraphale, but they tried something else for Crowley.

“This is dancing?” Aziraphale said dubiously. He had his arms around Crowley's neck, and Crowley's hands rested on his waist just over his hips. The music was very pretty, he'd give it that.

“This is dancing,” Crowley said, eyes glowing in the afternoon light. “Relax, angel. Go with the beat.” He swayed them, and Aziraphale thought about pointing out that Crowley was _entirely_ off the beat, but decided that might be best left for another time. He could let Crowley lead, anyway. And it wasn't _hard_ ; this was basically a hug set to music, which they'd done plenty of times before. To be honest, the lack of skill required was borderline insulting, Aziraphale quietly thought, but he let Crowley sway them around the bookshop in case that helped. It felt really nice, after all.

“Anything?” he asked softly, when they came to pause between shelves. He reached up and touched Crowley's cheek, and smiled into the kiss he got.

“No. But I like the experimenting phase,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale smiled at him and went into his arms, head resting on Crowley's bony, beloved shoulder. 

“Me too,” he said, as Crowley swayed them again, slower now, his arms around Aziraphale like he was something precious that needed protecting. That was so silly. Crowley was the vulnerable one.

“Wait.” Crowley stiffened for a moment. “I thought I-- no, it's gone.”

“But for a moment?” Aziraphale pushed away, just enough to meet Crowley's eyes.

“Maybe.” Crowley grinned. “Just for a moment, I thought – you love me. I mean, you really, really love me.”

“With all of me,” Aziraphale confirmed, and kissed him, and kissed him again.

The day after that they made love, slowly and intensely, drawing out every touch and kiss and cry of pleasure. They were both exhausted as evening drew on, gleaming with sweat and lips swollen from kissing, but Crowley hadn't even gotten a flash.

“Maybe we should practice more?” he suggested with a grin, and Aziraphale groaned and whapped him in the face with a pillow.

On the seventh day – and honestly, Aziraphale thought, he should have predicted it would be  _that_ day – they were lying in bed again. There was a soft patter of rain on the roof, and Aziraphale had put on an old wool shawl against the chill it brought, and of course Crowley was practically glued to him, poor chilly snake. He'd even lit a fire-that-wasn't in the grate.

Aziraphale had been quiet all day. He'd stumbled across an old note from Gabriel in a pile of bills. He had opened it and almost been burned by the words of flame, the sudden pain of it, and Crowley had roared in anger and destroyed it with a thought, then gathered the angel up with the gentlest touch Aziraphale had ever known.

“Let me see your hands,” Crowley asked again. He had checked Aziraphale's hands over and over for burns, for a curse that might be slow in coming, for fear that he'd somehow missed a scratch, _anything_ that might cause pain.

“I'm fine,” Aziraphale assured him, but he let Crowley take his hands, folding Aziraphale's fingers in his. “I promise.”

“I know. I just don't trust any of that lot,” Crowley said. He smiled at Aziraphale and squeezed his hands, and Aziraphale's heart did a funny thing in his chest. What a gift it was, to be so loved.

“Oh!” Crowley gasped. “Do that – wait --”

“What is it? Are you all right?” Aziraphale's face creased in concern, his wings snapping out, one mantling over them. Could _Crowley_ have caught something nasty off of the note? If they had hurt him, even a little...

Crowley laughed, eyes going wide. “Zira, you love me.”

“Well, yes, if you hadn't figured _that_ out by – _oh_. Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale laughed and carefully didn't move an inch, even though he wanted to gather Crowley up and kiss him silly. 

Crowley was grinning, and closed his eyes tight. “I can't put it into words. I can't – it comes and goes. I'm not good at it yet. But I felt. Like walking into a warm ocean, just for a moment. Aziraphale, you love me so much.”

“Yes, darling,” Aziraphale said softly, loving as hard as he could. “You have no idea.”

“No, but I'm getting there.” Crowley opened his eyes, grinning wildly. “It's gone again. But I don't care. That was...” He laughed. “Is that what you feel?”

“That, and more. Sometimes it's a tidal wave,” Aziraphale said softly. “Places that are so well-loved. Some people.”

“Me?” Crowley asked.

“You. So much, you,” Aziraphale told him, and kissed his brow, finally gathering him as close as he wanted, rubbing his cheek against soft fuzz. “I can't wait for you to know how beloved you are.”

“I know,” Crowley promised. “I do, Aziraphale. You show me constantly, and tell me, and everything. This is just...a bonus, really,” he said thoughtfully. “Something to try. But not necessary. You'd believe me if I said I loved you and you couldn't feel it, right?”

Aziraphale was quiet, thoughtful. “Ye-es. But how interesting. I don't even know how that would feel,” he confessed. “It would be like losing a sense, I think. I'm so used to feeling it.”

Crowley nodded and snuggled a bit closer. “You can feel it now?”

“I can feel it now,” Aziraphale promised, and cuddled his demon, soaking in all the warm, soft, good love in their little home.

He surprised Crowley with flowers the next day, feeling silly and extravagant but, well, tulips. One never fully got over tulipmania, Aziraphale believed, and indeed Crowley was quite charmed and cooed over the beautiful things. When they lay in bed that afternoon and Aziraphale loved as hard as he could, Crowley could sense it. Just for a few seconds at a time, but it was longer than the day before, a little clearer, a little deeper.

“We just have to practice,” he said.

“Such a hardship,” Aziraphale observed, and pulled Crowley in for a kiss. For practice.

They started to branch out from there. Crowley had gotten decently good at sensing love when they were quietly in bed together, cuddling or otherwise touching, so they started by lying together, but not touching.

“This is harder than I thought it would be,” Aziraphale confessed with a laugh, and their experiment was ruined when Crowley rolled over and hugged him.

“What if I promise you a kiss later,” he said.

“What if _I_ promise _you_ the same thing,” Aziraphale challenged. 

Crowley sighed. “You ever think the reason we're our own side is we're the only ones that would have each other?”

“Oh, constantly,” Aziraphale said cheerfully, and kissed the tip of Crowley's nose. “Right, my dear. Onto your side. We can absolutely get you sensing love from a distance, I know we can.”

Crowley curled up on his side of the bed and smiled at Aziraphale, then closed his eyes. It was easier like this, sometimes.

The room was silent, but for the sound of Aziraphale's breathing, and Crowley found himself falling into rhythm with it, feeling safe and protected. He could almost feel the heat of Aziraphale's body...

Oh. Oh,  _there_ .

“You're smiling,” Aziraphale said softly. “Tell me what you feel, love.”

“Warm. Warm water. Not all the time it – oh, there it goes again.” Crowley opened his eyes and smiled. “It felt nice, like getting a hug.”

“Oh, come _here_ ,” Aziraphale said, and held out an arm, and Crowley got a real hug to compare.

“We are _terrible_ at this,” Crowley observed. “No discipline at all.”

“Our side doesn't need discipline,” Aziraphale said, and kissed him on the forehead. “Right, try again.”

By the end of the afternoon, Crowley could feel love from a few feet away with little effort. It still felt a bit shallow to him, but he reckoned more would come with time.

It was the same the following day; a little disappointing, but Aziraphale gave him extra cuddles to make up for the lack of progress. “Even if it takes years,” he said, “you can sense it a little, at least.”

“And I know anyway,” Crowley said, trying to cheer himself up.

“Good,” Aziraphale said softly. “Because I love you so, so much.” He tipped Crowley's chin up, and kissed him, and kissed him again, and showed him with body and hands and mouth just how much he loved Crowley, in a way that couldn't be missed.

A week later, they had a row over nothing and almost missed their daily practice. Crowley had gone off to be grumpy on his own in a pub, and Aziraphale had come up to their bedroom alone. The quiet time had been good for him, and he saw no reason to give it up – the only change being that instead of lying in bed and talking with Crowley and holding his hand, he puttered about, putting away some new clothes and setting others aside for mending.

He felt Crowley before he heard him, of course, and smiled to himself when it was clear that Crowley was coming up to the bedroom. They would have their little time together, putting themselves aside from the rest of the world, and it would be lovely. The argument was forgotten in the little curl of affection Aziraphale felt, like the first touch of a fog.

He straightened up and turned around with a smile just as Crowley came into the bedroom. Aziraphale opened his mouth to say hello, when Crowley stumbled, pitched forward, and landed hard on hands and knees.

“My dear!” Aziraphale was by his side in a moment, eyes wide with shock. In seconds he'd healed a bruised knee, a sore wrist, and was helping Crowley sit up. “Love, love, what is it?”

“Urk,” Crowley said, eyes wide. He licked his lips. “Zira. I.” A deep breath. “Oh. _Oh_ , I never imagined...”

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, frantic.

“Crowley shook his head and groaned, and gently pulled away. “No, it's good, it's all good. Can you, um. Maybe. Love me a little less for a moment?”

“ _What_?” Aziraphale's jaw dropped in shock, then he realized, and laughed, and pulled away himself. “I'm so sorry...”

Crowley was laughing too, so hard that he fell the rest of the way onto the floor, curled up and shaking with how funny it all was. 

“You're not helping!” Aziraphale protested, trying to dampen what he felt. “Why can't you be stupid or mean or something like that?”

Crowley giggled helplessly. “Oh Satan. How did we save the whole world?”

“We didn't, Adam did,” Aziraphale said. “For goodness' sake, I'm going to go downstairs, call out when you can stand to be near me.”

“No, don't go, I'm getting used to it,” Crowley begged. “It's like drowning, but not dying.”

“Good, I think,” Aziraphale said dryly. Perhaps he was damping things down enough, or Crowley was getting used to it, or a little of both, for soon enough he just lay there, smiling up at Aziraphale.

“I didn't even have to touch you,” he said proudly. “Was all the way across the room.”

“Pretty good range, too,” Aziraphale said, and felt himself go soft when Crowley reached out and took his hand, casual and tender and amazing. “Do you feel better, love?”

“Mmm.” Crowley pushed himself up to sitting with his other hand. “Okay. That's okay. Thanks for the little healing miracle, by the way, you're utterly ridiculous.”

“My demon doesn't go hurting when I'm _right here_ ,” Aziraphale said indignantly. “Easy, sweetheart. You dropped like a rock.”

“When you said tidal wave, you weren't kidding.” Crowley blew out a breath, and finally let Aziraphale help him up to sit on the bed. “Is that really what it feels like for you?”

“Sometimes. Not always, of course. I can...hm. Calm it down?” Aziraphale tried. “Or know that it's there, but kind of. Well, darling, I don't want to say I _ignore it_ , but...”

“You'd bloody well have to, to survive. Unf.” Crowley fell back onto the bed and stretched. “It's wonderful, by the way. Don't know if I've mentioned that yet. Being loved by you. It's great.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Oh, Crowley. You say such sweet things.”

“Oi. I mean it,” Crowley said, and gave his sleeve a little tug, plainly inviting Aziraphale to join him in lying down. “It feels good. I mean, _obviously_ , it feels good to know you love me. But actually _feeling your love_...it's nice. Warm and comforting and all that.”

“Well, good.” Aziraphale settled with his head on Crowley's chest. “Your love feels good too, darling. I don't know if I ever told you either. But it's very nice. It feels like home.”

“Good,” Crowley said softly, and kissed the top of his head. “Wouldn't want you stuck with some second-rate love.”

Aziraphale made a little  _tchuh_ sound and pinched him. “As if anything about you could be second-rate.” He gave Crowley a hug to make up for the pinch, and closed his eyes, and let himself  _feel_ . Crowley loved him so much; it was a continual miracle. One he even mostly stopped expecting to end someday.

“You need your quiet time,” Crowley murmured, stroking Aziraphale's hair, playing with the fluffy curls just over one ear. “My angel.”

Aziraphale smiled, and hugged him, and let the two of them just float gently, the tidal wave now a shallow running stream, sweet and refreshing and not dangerous to anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> <https://dietraumerei.tumblr.com/>


End file.
